


Without Bringing Me Dreams

by Ellegrine



Series: Omega Milk [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alpha Tim Drake, Alternate Universe, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Drama (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Breastfeeding, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Batfamily (DCU), Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd-centric, Male Lactation, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Never Repost My Work Anywhere, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Verse, POV Jason Todd, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Resurrected Jason Todd, Tim Drake Needs Love, Tim Drake Needs a Break, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Worried Batfamily (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellegrine/pseuds/Ellegrine
Summary: Some days, Jason wants to shove Tim into a nest and cuddle him until he falls asleep.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Tim Drake
Series: Omega Milk [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673674
Comments: 38
Kudos: 824





	Without Bringing Me Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [Without Bringing Me Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26931775) by [thesoleil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesoleil/pseuds/thesoleil)

> The title is from a poem by Edgar Allan Poe.
> 
> A big thank you to Elyse for the beta work.

Jason Todd groans and drags a hand down his face. His instincts are going wild, edging into primitive territory, and it’s pissing him off.

“Oh, for the love of—!”

He winces as the pain in his chest intensifies. A few drops of milk spill from his aching chest and soak into his shirt. If he weren’t so annoyed, he might even be embarrassed. He’s overproducing milk. Basically, his body is making enough for the entire Wayne Pack, even though he’s not yet comfortable letting anyone but Damian drink from him.

That might be changing, though, given his reaction to the scents in the Cave. One in particular is so pungent that he can smell it from the top of the staircase.

He glares down as his chest and demands, “Now? Seriously?” As if in mockery, even more milk seeps out to soak into his soft t-shirt.

Jason hadn’t been planning on offering so soon. Not … after everything. He might be the Wayne Pack Omega, but he has rights. It’s his body, his milk, and he decides who can have it. It’s meant to be a gift, something to strengthen the Pack Bonds. A gift that isn’t freely given is no gift at all.

None of them have dared to ask — even though he is sure that they desperately want to. None of them have dared to broach the subject since he said, “Not now.”

Damian Wayne, his pup, has been silently gloating for over a month that he’s allowed in Jason’s nest. That he’s allowed to nurse Jason's rich Omega milk. He hasn’t had to say a single word; the milky scent that combines with his lets everyone know that he’s the Pack Omega’s favorite. That he’s precious and trusted and beloved.

But—

Timothy Drake reeks of stressed, exhausted Alpha-pup: overworked-exhausted-sad-sad-_sad. _

It’s staggering. Jason’s breasts _ ache. _He feels like he walked into a wall of scent when he stepped through the grandfather clock. It essentially slapped him in the face.

“Here goes nothing,” Jason says, before heading down the staircase.

It’s not exactly that he’s avoiding Tim. Though, it isn’t exactly like he’s _ not _avoiding Tim either. 

While the others likely assume that’s because he feels pissed off about being “replaced,” they couldn’t be further from the truth. Tim is an excellent liar. Jason means that as a compliment, by the way; he knows exactly how much difference being able to lie believably can make. It certainly saved his life more than once when he was a pup on the streets in Crime Alley. But Tim? He’s taken it to a level that makes it an artform.

Jason has never met anyone else in his life who can lie so convincingly. From the tone of Tim’s voice to projecting false emotive scents, he’s legitimately never met anyone who impresses him more than Tim has.

_ That _ is the problem.

Because when Tim smells comfortable-safe in Jason’s presence, Jason has no idea if Tim really means it and has forgiven him for his Pit Madness induced insanity and attacks, or if Tim is faking it to try and keep peace in the Pack.

Even remembering the time he got on his knees to apologize to Tim when the Pit Madness finally vanished, and recalling Tim’s “I never once blamed you. You don’t need to apologize, Jason,” doesn’t help.

It has to be a lie, right? 

How could anyone be that forgiving toward a) someone who almost slit his throat, b) someone who called him derogatory names for months, essentially de-humanizing him to a thing, a “replacement,” and not a person, and c) an Omega who would dare to lay hands on a pup in anger.

So when a flicker of joy-relief enters Tim’s scent-pile when Jason walks in the room, he’s not sure if it’s genuine or not.

He really, really hopes it’s genuine. Because the thought of any pup, even an older Alpha-pup, being scared of him is like a knife to the gut — the kind of wound that’s messy and hurts for a long time after it’s inflicted. It’s the kind of wound that some people can’t survive.

“Hi, Jason,” Tim says, a soft smile on his face.

It’s the smile Tim’s been giving him the entire time that Jason’s known him. The same smile Tim wore when Jason was roughing him up and escalating towards lethal violence. It’s a smile of absolute faith. It shakes Jason to the core.

Because he doesn’t deserve it after what he did. So … that means it’s a lie, right?

He curls his bare toes against the stone floor of the Cave, focusing on the cold of it. Because he thinks he knows the answer to that, but he’s not sure he’s ready to face it yet. Jason doesn’t deserve that level of forgiveness and respect. 

Even with the Pack Bonds severed by his death, he still hurt a Wayne Pup, someone who should have been inviolable to his instincts.

“How long have you been awake?” Jason demands.

Tim blinks at Jason over the rim of a mug of coffee, slow and dazed. The bags under his eyes are darker than normal, as if he hasn’t slept a wink in days. Knowing the case that they’ve all been working together — finding and dismantling bombs in Gotham — it wouldn’t be a surprise. Tim has the ability of pushing his physical needs aside to help others, to his own detriment. 

It’s as inspiring as it is aggravating.

Some days, Jason wants to shove Tim into a nest and cuddle him until he falls asleep. Then force-feed him real, nutritious food when he wakes — he’s too thin by far, always working too hard to remember to eat — only to lull him back to sleep.

“Seventy-three hours,” Tim says, before turning his attention back to the reports on the Batcomputer.

Jason’s hands hurt from how tightly he fists them. Because that blunt-toned response, something he could easily verify with the cameras, makes him think Tim meant what he said in response to Jason’s apology. 

Because Tim spoke those words in that same blunt tone. _ “I never once blamed you. You don’t need to apologize, Jason.” _

Jason scrubs a hand down his face and breathes deeply. The scent is less intense of depressed-exhaustion now that Jason’s down in the Cave.

But—

Is that because Tim cares about Jason and Jason is present? Or is that because Jason is present so Tim is veiling a scent he might consider a weakness?

“Crap,” Jason groans, releasing a wave of frustration as he tries to get it all sorted out in his head.

Tim’s typing slows and he watches Jason out of the corner of his eyes.

Is that because he’s concerned for Jason, or worried that Jason’s going to attack him in frustrated-anger?

“Seventy-three hours, Baby Bird?” Jason demands.

That’s an unhealthy amount of dedication, even taking the desperation of the now-resolved situation into account. Even _ Bruce _ had taken a few naps over the past three days. True, everyone’s naps had been in shifts, with instructions to wake everyone immediately upon discovery of a new bomb’s location, but _ still. _Tim must’ve worked on his laptop up in his room when he was supposed to be napping. 

And even after all that, Tim is _ still _working the case, likely typing reports and observations and updating files — so it’ll be exactly how Bruce likes it.

“Seventy-three hours,” Tim confirms, fingers still clacking away.

For a second, the clacking keys sound like the countdown of a bomb. 8. 7. 6.

A shiver races down Jason’s spine and he forces himself to shove aside the memories that have been haunting him worse than normal over the past few days as they all raced to defuse the Joker’s bombs.

It’s … it’s not the same. They didn’t save _ Jason _ by dismantling these bombs. But they definitely saved a lot of other people, innocent pups included, from the Joker’s latest scheme. So it’s — he’s going to test a theory. 

Tim might be able to lie with his words and his scent, but not even _ he _ will be able to lie with his instinctual reactions when he’s this worn down.

Jason slides his fingers into Tim’s hair; Tim instantly leans into his touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. 

Well, that answers that, then.

Tim’s comfortable-safe scent in his presence is apparently real. Somehow, someway, Tim _ really _doesn’t hate him for what happened while Jason was Pit Mad. It’s a miracle. He’s inclined to question it, to question Tim’s sanity, but … Jason decides to let that be enough.

Jason takes a deep breath and steps back, asks himself if he’s sure — because taking it back or changing his mind later would be viciously cruel — and then orders, “Nest!”

Tim glances at Jason out of the corner of his eye, fingers clicking over the keys one-handed as he sips his coffee. “I need to finis—”

_ “My nest,” _ Jason clarifies.

The medical area of the Cave, which he has been blatantly ignoring, falls silent. That silence does nothing to disguise the stench of greed-envy-want-jealousy pouring off Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. It’s especially pungent, drowning out Tim’s exhausted-sadness from earlier.

“Little Wing?”

“Hold still, Dick. I’m not done with your stitches,” Bruce admonishes.

There’s too much begging-hope in their scents. He can’t handle it right now. He’s still not in the right mental space to talk through his feelings or thoughts. Part of him is still that unpresented-pup, lying broken on a warehouse floor, waiting for his brother and his dad to save him.

Jason still hasn’t come to terms with the fact that neither of them showed up.

The thought of all three of them in his nest at once has sweat beading at the small of his back. He just … someday, that might be okay. Today isn’t that day.

So—

“Not now,” he says to them, never taking his eyes off Tim.

Tim sets his coffee cup down and stands with alacrity. He doesn’t ask, “Are you sure?” Likely because he’s worried if he does it’ll just annoy Jason and make him change his mind.

Desperate-please-not-a-joke wafts off Tim.

“Come on,” he commands.

Jason turns on his heel and marches up the stairs to the Manor. The back of his neck itches; he’s never liked having an Alpha at his back, but especially not when there isn’t enough room to fight and maneuver and get away.

He doesn’t think Tim will attack him, especially not unprovoked, but League training isn’t something he’s liable to forget. Not when he spent years having it drilled into him. He can still hear Talia taunting him as she kicks him to the floor of the training room, _ “Never let anyone get behind you, but especially not an Alpha.” _

When they get to his den, Tim stops at the threshold; that, more than anything else, soothes Jason’s worries.

He strips off his shirt. Milk trickles down his chest and abs, spilling from his aching breasts. Tim’s scent changes to something that Jason can only describe as please-I’ll-do-anything-pleading.

“C’mere, Baby Bird,” Jason says.

Tim takes a single step over the threshold and then freezes, gaze darting left and right, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t and expects to be kicked out for trespassing. It’s nice to know Tim has a healthy respect for Jason’s personal territory, but if Tim doesn’t come relieve the pain in his chest _ right now, _Jason’s going to get pissed. 

Damian’s at school and can’t help with the problem; he won’t be home for hours yet.

<strike> And Bruce and Dick are the ones who didn’t avenge Jason</strike>.

Jason grimaces and releases his control of his scent. Sweet milky Omega, a scent no one can resist, wafts into the air. _ “Today, _ Baby Bird!”

Tim’s at the edge of his nest, eyes almost manic, in less than three seconds. He hovers there, gaze tracing the path of the milk spilling down Jason’s body and licks his lips. He smells _ ravenous. _

_ “Jason, please!” _

Stunned, Jason stares at him. He knows that Tim has amazing self-control, but this … wow. Any other Alpha would have taken the command as permission to enter Jason’s nest itself, entirely forgetting — in want and hunger — that an Omega has to take your hand or wrist and help you inside the nest or permission isn’t official.

“Ah, hell, Baby Bird.” Jason offers his hand. “Get in here.”

Tim’s hand is warm. His calluses are in different places than the ones on Jason’s hands — the difference between a bo staff and guns. Jason lets go of Tim’s fingers once Tim is in his nest. 

Jason reaches for Tim’s throat and is stunned when Tim bares his neck for him. How … how can Tim trust him so much? Jason almost killed him! Almost slit the very throat he’s leaning into Jason’s hold right now….

Tears sting Jason’s eyes as he settles his hand on the back of Tim’s neck and guides Tim down to his leaking chest. “Drink up, Timmy,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

Tim latches on and, in direct contrast to what Jason thinks will happen, suckles slowly. As if he’s savoring the experience. As if Jason’s milk is more precious than the finest of wines. As if this is something sacred that might never happen again, and so he must treat it with the utmost respect and relish it while he’s allowed.

Jason’s hand shakes as he carefully pets Tim’s hair.

Suddenly, Jason remembers that Tim spent a very large portion of his puphood alone. He’ll never ask, but he can’t help but wonder if Jack Drake even produced milk when he and Janet were briefly home from their travels. Had Tim _ ever _ been fed as a pup?

The Pack Bond between them flourishes, grows stronger with every suckle. It’s … it’s so different from when Jason feeds Damian, the only person he’s ever allowed to drink his milk. _ Reverence _ travels through the growing Pack Bond. 

He loses the battle; the tears fall.

Jason pets Tim’s silky-soft hair and closes his eyes. Tim’s not lying to him or scared of him; he really does forgive and trust Jason after everything that happened. What an amazing, brave Alpha-pup. 

The Pack Bond solidifies, powerful and secure between them. It might have taken a while, but they’re Pack.


End file.
